Twenty Two
by bamboo72498
Summary: Glimpses at life of the Original Six 22 years after we met them. Cover image credit to Lilian (Wolvista on tumblr)
1. Mark

**A/N: You guys didn't think I'd let the 22nd anniversary of this show go by and not do anything for it, did you? Especially since 22 is an important number in the fandom. Anyway, this is gonna focus on the Original Six, and what they are up to 22 years after we met them. Just little glimpses into their lives. Also? I'm basing kids' ages on how they would be in real life, not how they would be in the show. Like Reese would be 19 and Ella would be 15. Make sense? Good.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Alright everyone: take a deep breath. We're gonna run this like we've done hundreds of times before," Rachel Greene announces as she pushes through the double doors of Trauma Room 2, right on the heels of a team of paramedics rolling a gurney carrying their newest patient.

The nurses, med students, interns and the other resident in the room with her take her lead and set to work getting the man onto the table and begin to assess his condition. The monitor beeps rapidly, filling the already bustling room with more noise.

"Will someone please call Surgery and tell them we have a serving of 'Gun Shot Victim' coming to them soon? And I need him typed and crossed for four, a number eight ET tube, a laryngoscope and 50 of Sux and 120 of Etomidate on board as fast as we can."

Rachel tried to keep her traumas, and not emergent cases for that matter, as calm as possible. No need getting all worked up if you don't have too.

Once the drugs had been pushed, Rachel called over one of the med students huddled in the corner.

"Okay, have you ever intubated someone before?" she asked the Third Year standing next to her over the patient's head.

"No," the woman answered. "I've seen one done before," she perks up.

"See one, do one, teach one," Rachel tells her, stepping aside so the students can have a better angle. "Okay, Laura, this one is yours," she says handing over the laryngoscope. "Now: take a deep breath and hold it. If you run out of air, you're taking too long." The student takes a breath and turns to Rachel with puffed out cheeks. "Okay," Rachel chuckles. "Go in laterally, sweeping his tongue aside. Don't rock back or you'll break his teeth."

Rachel watches the med student follow her directions, and gently corrects her minor mistakes.

"I can't see the cords," Laura sighs, growing more frustrated.

"That's okay, try again," Rachel encourages, putting pressure on the patient's throat.

"Rachel," the other resident in the room, Gabriel, insists, noticing the falling oxygen levels. "This isn't a teaching case."

"Give her a chance, Gabe!" Rachel barks at him, causing Laura to look up. The med student suddenly doubts herself and her training and starts to hand over the tool to her superior.

"Maybe you should do it."

"No, you're gonna try one more time. Ready?" At her nod, Laura starts again. She remembers everything Dr. Greene had told her and a minute later she sees the cords and slides the breathing tube down the patient's throat.

"I'm in," she announces, stepping back, smiling, proud of herself.

"Great job, Dr. Beckett!" Rachel says, smiling at the med student.

The ER's work continues, and eventually the gun-shot victim is stable enough to be brought up to surgery. Rachel signs off on his chart and hands it to a nurse just as the elevator doors close and they disappear, she disposes of her bloody gown and moves to the Admit desk to pick up another chart.

"Med students are so useless, I don't understand why they have to be involved in traumas in the first place," Gabriel complains to whoever is listening as Rachel walks up, collecting the next chart on the rack.

"It's a 'Teaching Hospital,' Gabe," Rachel tells him, signing up on the board. "You're gonna have to do it at some point." And with a pat on her colleague's shoulder, Rachel walks off to meet her next patient.

[] []

Elizabeth looks up from her paperwork as the front door opens and closes and her daughter appears in the doorway of her office.

"Hey! How was practice?"

"It was good," Ella nods. "We finally hit zero on our pyramid which is great."

"Well good for you," Elizabeth smiles. Despite the nine years Ella has been doing competitive cheerleading, she still doesn't understand it. Though she assumes 'hitting zero' is a good thing. "Are you hungry? I saved you some dinner."

"Yeah. But I think I'm gonna go take a shower first, if that's okay."

"Of course, sweetheart," Elizabeth smiles. "It will be ready when you are."

Forty minutes later Ella, showered and changed into pajamas, sat at the kitchen table, a cat on her lap, and a plate of Thai food in front of her. Her mom had taken a break from her paperwork and migrated into the kitchen to be near her daughter who she hadn't seen since this time yesterday.

"So," Ella started over a bite, before reconsidering and chewing first. "So," she starts again, "the new _Moana_ trailer came out today." At her mom's acknowledgment, Ella continues. "And it reminded me of Dad. He would have loved this movie. Probably would have been the first in line for tickets, huh?"

"Yeah, he would have," Elizabeth chuckles. "Probably would have seen it a hundred times, too." Fourteen years had passed since that awful spring spent in the Hawaiian Islands and talking about Mark didn't hurt as much as it once did. In recent years it had become regular conversation rather than topics to be tread lightly around. "And then he would have insisted we bought it on video so he could watch it another hundred times."

"You don't need dad to do that," Ella laughs. "I'm already planning on putting it on my Christmas list." She stands and carries her plate to the sink, rinsing it off before sticking it into the dishwasher.

"Well I certainly hope Santa Clause knows where to find such a video," Elizabeth winks, following her daughter into the living room where they take their favorite places on the couch. The cat finds a place mashed right into her thigh, and she strokes it between the ears while watching her daughter navigate their Netflix playlist. The two had been working their way through _Gilmore Girls_ before the revival series comes out, and were currently halfway through season four. "Do you have any homework?"

"Just an essay to finish that's due next week," Ella answers as the episode starts.

"Okay."

They make it through two more episodes before Ella gets sent to bed and Elizabeth goes back to her office to finish her own homework. A picture on her desk catches her eye as she sits in the office chair. It's of the three of them: her, Mark and Ella, taken mere moments before Ella had gotten ahold of her first birthday cake. Elizabeth smiles at the memory and fiddles with the wedding rind hung on a chain around her neck.

And as she digs into the final stretch of this pile of papers, she can almost feel him standing over her shoulder and hear him whisper ' _I love you_.'


	2. Doug

The garage door slams shut, and Doug Ross chuckles to himself, continuing to spread mayonnaise on his sandwich. He slides it into a zip top bag and into his lunch box, as his eldest daughter strides into the kitchen, stopping in front of him. Tess doesn't say anything, but the wild gestures she gives and the sounds of utter confusion and disbelief say it all.

"Kate had an early volleyball practice, so she took your car," Doug answers her unsaid question.

"But it's my day!" Tess shouts, stomping her foot.

"And your sister needed it, so you're gonna have to deal with it."

"Ugh!"

"Why don't you just get them both a car? Then they wouldn't fight all the time over it," Addison pipes up. The youngest Ross child had gone unnoticed in the room up until that moment.

She was a tiny, sprite of a thing with giant hazel eyes and the same dark, wavy hair as her older sisters; the only one of the three girls that resembled their father's appearance. Four years younger than the twins, Addy was, personality wise, a wonderful combination of Tess and Kate: quiet and internal, thinks before she speaks (like Kate), yet loud and expressive and fiery (like Tess). She's soft and girlie, always in or near a dress or skirt, but loves riding horses and jumping in muddy puddles. Though she may be reserved in a lot of conversations, Addison can throw out a witty quip and change the entire dynamic of a room in one sentence.

"Yeah, Addy's right, Dad! Why can't you get me and Kate our own cars?" Tess agrees, turning from the fridge to her dad and sister. "That way Kate wouldn't have to drive to come pick us up. I could just do it myself." Tess and Addy attend a performing arts private school (and are both making A-B grade averages) that Kate attended her eighth grade year, but discovered that school wasn't for her so she decided to go back to public school, and has been doing just as well as her sisters.

Doug chuckles, having heard his daughter's argument for her own car many times over the past year; he's starting to see things her way. Though the year since the twins have had their drivers' licenses, and the Jeep Cherokee they received for their sixteenth birthday, has gone fairly well, the continuing inconvenience of both girls attending different schools and their busy schedules both in and out of school has made the need for another vehicle in their family more and more noticeable.

"We'll see," he answers, leaving the kitchen to finish readying for work, missing the squeal and excited look Tess gives him.

The girls finish eating breakfast and packing their bags, and before long they are in the car headed to school. Doug wins the war over the radio and Sports Talk fills the car as he makes the turn onto the expressway right into the middle of the morning rush.

"Dad?" Addy pipes up from the backseat. "Do you think they found that girl a new liver? Is that why Mom left so early this morning?"

"I don't know, buggy. I'll ask mom when I see her later, okay?"

"Okay."

Twenty minutes later Doug pulls into the drop-off line at the girls' school. "Bye! Have fun!" He tells his daughters as they gather their things and get out of the car.

"Bye, Dad! See you later," Tess says, slamming her door shut.

"Bye, Dad!" Addison smiles, kissing him on the cheek quickly before getting out, her flute case scrapping against the interior of the door.

He watches to make sure they get inside safely and then follows the cars in front of him to the intersection where he waits to turn left towards work.

[][]

Having only just set down his bag and taken his coat off, Doug gets called in to assist an intern in putting in a central line. The procedure goes well, and with a pat on the shoulder, Doug leaves the young doctor with promises to check on both him and the patient later.

He had planned on checking on Carol, who was up and out of the house at Zero Dark Thirty that morning, before morning rounds.

"Dr. Ross? We're ready for rounds when you are."

But that was obviously not going to happen.

"Yeah, okay," Doug sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Let's do this." He listens to the residents, interns, and med students from the over-night shift, rattle off the patients they had taken in and their various ailments. Pass on cases were exchanged between doctors and once that was complete, shifts could finally change and tired doctors could go home to their families and beds to sleep.

Doug, from behind the desk that was the productive and personal center of the Pediatric floor, watches as a resident, Taylor Irving, who he had raised since he was a baby med students, coaches his own med student through a difficult procedure. Doug smugly smiles to himself, knowing he had done good.

"Dr. Ross? They need you down in the ER," a scrub-clad nurse, Nicole, tells him with a phone resting on her shoulder.

"Okay," Doug nods, turning towards the elevators again, and pushing the call button "tell them I'll be there in ten minutes." And without listening to her reply, Doug lets the elevator doors close.

[] []

Carol's office is three floors above the Ped's unit, with an amazing view of the city. Doug waves and exchanges hellos with other staff members as he walks down the hallway, making a quick stop in their break room to see what kind of goodies they had out that day (which they didn't) before finding the closed door that belongs to his wife.

When he knocks, Carol's harsh bark comes from inside. "Go Away!"

"Care?" he asks, pushing the door open. she doesn't look up right away, and he takes note of her strained position in her desk chair: shoulders hunched, forehead in hand with rough fingers digging into her hair, and a light blue blouse that is way more wrinkled than it should be at such an early hour.

"Oh, it's you," Carol sighs, finally looking up.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "who did you think it was?"

"Chad," she growls, finally releasing her hair from her hand. "He's been on me all week."

"Because of what happened the other day?" Doug asks, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. He starts to massage the tense muscles in her shoulders, digging into the knots.

"Yes," she says, letting her head hang again.

"Just ignore him; he's angry and bitter and disappointed in himself. Nothing that happened was your fault."

"I know. Oh, yes," she sighs, feeling her muscles finally relax.

Doug chuckles, still rubbing. "Oh! Addy was wondering if you got that girl a liver yet. She thought that that might be why you were gone this morning."

"Actually we did," Carol smiles. The three-month long case involving an eight-year-old girl in the early, and eventually advanced, stages of liver failure had been a big topic of conversation in their family, especially with Addison who felt empathetic towards the girl who danced Ballet just like she did. "She went into surgery about two hours ago. I'm still waiting for them to call and tell me that she woke up."

"That's amazing," Doug says, leaning over and kissing his wife. "You're amazing."

Carol turns in her desk chair and pushes up, grabbing Doug's face, all without breaking their kiss.

When they break, there is a moment when the world just stops and it's just them. No kids, no phone calls or text messages, no pages from work or horrible people who make days awful. Just them, Carol and Doug, a moment of time when they get trapped in a perfect bubble.

"Oh shit!"

And then the bubble breaks.

Doug does another double take at the clock on Carol's computer just to be sure he really wasn't mistaken.

"What?" Carol asks.

"I was supposed to be in the ER ten minutes ago. I am so dead." He kisses her hard once more before dashing out of the room.


	3. Peter

Peter dries his hands and tosses the towel into the bin as he pushes open the Scrub Room door open. He had just finished yet another appendectomy, this time on a nine-year-old boy. It's boring and monotonous at times, but now that he's mostly doing General Surgery, it's the whole point. But he does miss the action and excitement and sheer _fun_ of Trauma Surgery every now and again. And lucky for him, he can scrub in on trauma procedures sometimes and it gives him his fix for a while.

He changes his scrub top that is drenched with sweat from being in an OR with broken air conditioning and pulls out his lunch bag from his locker. As he walks to the cafeteria, Peter chuckles to himself, knowing what the other guys are going to say when they see what he brought for lunch.

"Nice lunch bag, Peter," Daniel teased, watching his colleague pull out a chair and sit.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Peter waves his hand, smiling, egging his friends on.

"I gotta say, Peter: I never pictured you as a 'Shopkins' type of guy. I like this new side of you," Alex nods, gesturing to the purple lunch bag.

"I'm a man of many sides," Peter laughs along with the other guys.

The teasing and the laughs continue as Peter pulls out the food inside: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cheese popcorn, a yogurt tube, grapes, and a Capri Sun juice pouch. And sitting on top, written on Hello Kitty stationery, is a note that is obviously written by a child.

 _Daddy,_

 _Good luck on your spelling test today. I am rooting for you!  
Remember: you is smart, you is kind, you is important. _

_Love,  
Adara._

"'Spelling Test'? Your kid does know what you do for a living right?" Alex asks.

"Of course she does," Peter says, giving his friend a look of 'are you dumb?' "But I told her that saying good luck on your surgery is bad luck, so we starting calling it spelling tests when she wants to wish me luck." All the boys the table laugh at that, making everyone around them turn and look.

"That's smart, I should do that," Alex nods

"No, that your kids would know what a spelling test is, right, Alex? I mean I didn't think they did those at that fancy school you send them too," Peter counters.

"Hey! That's not true. Their school just doesn't believe in traditional ways of teaching and learning. They still do the same things the other schools do, even spelling tests, just different."

"Okay. Damn. It was just a joke!" Peter apologizes, sucking down the juice in three slurps.

"So what kind of Spelling Test was she wishing you luck on?" Alex asks, eating his own lunch.

"I got a Lap Coly in an hour," Peter nods.

"And that's something to wish you luck on? Haven't you done like a million of them?" The young doctor asks.

"Yes I have, but to her everything I do is important. Even if it's the thousandth time I've done it."

"Well alright."

The three boys finish their lunches over talk of the disaster of a football game that had occurred the previous night, and their teasing over printed lunchboxes turns into an argument over stupid calls a referee made to their favorite football team.

[] []

A Laparoscopic Cholecystectomy (or the removal of the gallbladder) is a minimally invasive procedure involving a few small incisions and the use of a laparoscopic camera and various tools made specifically for use along with the camera. It's a simple procedure, from a surgeon's point of view, and so Peter hands the reigns over to the med student in the room with him.

He guides the young man through every step, gently correcting him when the need arises.

"I did it!" The student cheers as he pulls out the scope for the final time, and prepares to stitch the patient up. "That was – that was amazing."

Peter hums, impressed with the student. "You did good," he says, not wanting to inflate the kids' ego too much more. And with one final now, Peter leaves the OR for the last time that day, tossing his gown, gloves, and cap into the trash bin.

The first thing he does when he gets into the locker room is shed his scrubs and replace them with the jeans and gray Henley he had worn into work that morning. Another hour is spent filling out paperwork and doing nightly rounds to hand off that day's cases. Thankfully all of his patients were recovering well, which eased his mind a lot as he gathers his coat and bag and made his way to the parking garage and his car.

The soundtrack to the musical 'Hamilton' is playing over the speakers, as it had been when he arrived that morning after dropping off his daughter at school. He doesn't bother changing it as he drives home, and it even makes the Chicago rush hour traffic a little bit more bearable than it usually is.

"Hey, Dad!" His daughter calls out as he comes through the garage door and into the house. The Crockpot had been running all day and the house smells amazing, and he sneaks a peek inside as he heads to hang up his coat.

"Hey!" Peter hangs up his jack and goes in search of his wife and daughter and finds them huddled around the mirror in the bathroom on the main floor of their house.

Cleo is standing behind Adara, whose shirt is covered with a towel, a black straightener in her hand, helping the child style her hair, and she looks over when she catches her husband in the corner of her eyes. "Hey, baby," she smiles, continuing to straighten the mess of curls her daughter inherited.

"Hey," Peter replies, leaning close and stealing a kiss. "What are you doing?"

"Mom's helping me get ready," his daughter smiles.

"Ready for what?" he asks, not realizing his daughter had an event to go to that night

"The Fall Ball. It's tonight. Ow!" Adara shouts, flinching as the iron gets a little close to her neck.

"Oh! Sorry, baby," Cleo says, rubbing at the sensitive spot, slowly starting again. "You need to leave," she says to her husband through the mirror, smiling. "You're making this dangerous."

"Maybe you're right," Peter agrees, nodding. "I'm gonna go change."

"Oh! Dad!" Adara calls him back. When he appears, she continues. "Reece called; he says 'hi'."

"Oh, cool. I'll try calling him back later," he nods before disappearing again, ready to change out of his work clothes and into pajamas.

[] []

"Wow! Look at you!" Peter admires, taking in his daughter as she comes into the living room having finished getting ready for her fall dance. She's in sixth grade now, almost all grown up, and with her hair long and shiny and straight, and dressed in a black sweater with cutouts on the shoulder, purple jeans and black boots, she looks much more mature and grown-up than her eleven years of age.

"Does it look okay?" Adara asks, suddenly self-conscious.

"You looks great, baby," Peter smiles. Having a daughter is a new and scary experience and he remembers calling his sister nearly every day of Adara's first year of life asking questions. And now that she's older and experiencing things Reece never went through, he finds himself doing it all over again.

"Thank you," she smiles, coming close and turning her cheek for a kiss to not smudge her lipgloss. He gives his daughter a kiss, smacking her cheek twice, making her giggle and flinch away.

"Hey, thank you for making me a lunch today, I really liked it," he tells her.

She smiles wide, "Really?"

"Really. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says. And a second later her best friend, Sierra knocks on the door, ready to take her to the dance.

"Bye! Have fun," Cleo says, watches the two girls walk to the latter's car. "We'll see you later."

"Bye, mom!" Adara calls, and then she's gone.

Cleo smirks to herself as she comes back into the living room; it's a rare occasion nowadays that they get the house to themselves, and she is going to take full advantage of it for the few hours they get. "So, have any plans for tonight?" She poses, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Well there's a game on tonight that I wanted to watch, maybe get something to eat and relax, I guess," he shrugs, looking over his shoulder at her before turning back to the TV.

"Really?" she asks, sliding her arms around his shoulders and resting them on his chest. "Because I had something a little different in mind." She kisses his jaw, then his cheek and ends at the corner of his mouth. "But if you're too tired." She whispers.

"I don't know," he sighs. "Now that you mention it, I am pretty tired."

She kisses him again, now laying half over the couch, and when Peter stands up, she falls all the way over. "Peter! Help me!" she laughs, voices muffled in the couch cushions.

He rounds the couch and pulls her up, smacking her butt as he passes. "Come on."

"Hey!" she gasps, "that's not fair!" But she follows him anyway.


	4. Susan

**A/N: Long time no post, huh? Sorry, life has been crazy. But here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

 **All spelling/grammar mistakes are mine. Sorry.**

* * *

"Cosmo! Let's go! Leighton and Jackson are here!" Susan calls up the stairs at her son. On her day off, the last thing she wants to do is make sure her twelve-year-old gets up and off to school, but here she is: wearing pajamas, robe, and slippers, waiting for coffee to be done and calling her son (who should have already been downstairs ready to go) to get his butt into gear. It's been this way since the new school year has started, and Susan hopes it comes to an end _very_ soon.

A minute later Cosmo appears at the top of the stairs, looking bed-ruffled and not the least bit awake and ready for school. As he walks down, backpack slung over one shoulder scraping against the wall, Susan swears he's wearing the _exact_ same green flannel shirt he wore the previous day.

She surveys the rest of his outfit, shaking her head; it almost never changes: ratty, old Nike basketball shoes, jeans (though these are fairly new and currently holeless), a basic navy t-shirt, the aforementioned flannel, and a grey beanie sitting atop his head hiding the shaggy, messy hair he refuses to get cut.

"Did you grab your report off the printer?" Susan asks.

"Yeah," Cosmo grunts, going for the front door, hoping to leave as fast as possible.

"Good," she smiles, knowing how hard her son worked on that project. "So remember: you're going to your dad's this weekend, so take the bus to his house after school, okay?"

"I know," the seventh grader says.

"Okay," Susan says. "I'll bring your stuff by later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Have a good day. I Love you."

Cosmo barely spares his mom a quick side hug before he bounds out the door to meet his friends for a ride to school. Though he does turn and tell his mom he loves her, which makes Susan think her sweet, funny, energetic boy is still there behind the angsty, sarcastic, sometimes rude kid he currently appears as.

Once Cosmo is safely off to school, Susan, already come to terms with the fact that she will not be getting back to sleep, gets a giant cup of coffee and curls up on the couch to watch the morning shows she seldom gets to see anymore. By noon she has cleared her DVR and is working through her Netflix queue when her cell phone rings.

She regrets looking the instant she sees who is calling.

"Sam: It's my day off. I'm not coming in."

" _I wasn't going to ask you too_ ," her Chief, Sam, answers.

"Uh huh, I'll believe that when pigs fly," she retorts. "What's up?"

" _Did you have a patient last night named Resner? Mid-twenties? Came in for the flu_?"

"Yeah, why?"

" _Well her spinal tap came back, and it's positive for meningitis_."

"Shit."

" _Yeah, no kidding. Good thing you kept her overnight for fluids and observation. She's getting antibiotics right now_."

"Thanks, Sam. You're the best!"

" _I know. And you still owe Maggie a bottle of champagne_."

"She did good for her first tap, didn't even cry."

" _I know. She's told everyone about it_."

Susan laughs at that. "Oh, no! I'm sorry."

" _Yeah, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow_."

"Cool. Talk tomorrow. Bye." She hangs up her phone, feeling both upset and happy; partly because she wasn't there to tell the scared and alone young woman she had met yesterday how very sick she was, and partly over how proud she is of how much her med student has learned in just the two months she's been there.

After another episode of Gilmore Girls, Susan gives in and opens the new package of edible cookie dough she bought at the store the other night. She reclaims her spot on the couch, and digs in, moaning at how great it tastes.

She laughs at herself, realizing how crazy she must look right then, but she doesn't care; a woman's gotta have some cookie dough every once and a while. It's good for the soul.

[] []

Susan wakes with a start, pushing the hair out of her eyes, and wincing as she moves her foot that had fallen asleep. She wiggles her toes, trying to get rid of the pins and needles feeling. She checks the time on her phone, groaning at how late it was and the fact that she told herself she wouldn't fall asleep, yet here she is: grumpy, disorientated and disheveled from taking a nap that she should not have taken.

Her son would be out of school by now and on the way to his father's house.

Despite their separation, Susan and Chuck have managed to maintain a friendly relationship. They don't fight, almost never have, and are (mostly) fine with each other seeing other people. Though memories of past love that has faded still stings a bit when said person is out romantically with another person. Cosmo appears fine about going back a forth between the two home every other weekend. And staying at the same school with the same group of friends seemed to have helped.

Susan gets up off the couch and heads upstairs to change. She collects Cosmo's duffle bag and pillow (and prized Blue Dog stuffed animal that no one is supposed to know he still sleeps with) and tosses them into the back of the car before getting in herself.

She wastes extra time by going through the drive-thru at Starbucks, knowing full well the after school-Soccer Mom crowd would be there. She orders coffees for herself, Cosmo and chuck and continues the chain when the car in front of her pays for her order. Susan leaves the crowded parking lot and drives the twenty minutes to her ex's apartment.

[] []

A barking dog next door heralds her arrival and a second later, Chuck is pulling open the door and smiling at her.

"Hey," he says. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Susan says, stepping over the threshold and dropping her son's stuff. "I brought you guys coffee," she says holding up the cardboard tray the three cups are sitting on.

"Hey, mom," Cosmo says to her, not looking away from the video game he's playing.

"Hey. What are you playing?" She asks, handing over his drink.

"Thanks," he says, taking the cup full of frappuccino from his mom. "Destiny. 'Trials of Osiris' came out again today."

"Oh cool," Susan says, sitting on the couch behind him. Chuck laughs and sits down next to her, picking up the other controller.

"You wanna try?" He asks, handing over the controller.

"No, I'd screw it up. Probably make a fool of myself. Not giving you that blackmail fodder," Susan marks her sentence with a finger pointed at Chuck.

"Okay," he shrugs, putting himself back into the game. Susan watches them play for a little while, how they shout and smack talk each other and laugh and cheer, how her son smiles so widely; she loves her boys.

After another half hour, Susan stands and stretches. "Alright, I gotta go."

"No, stay! I'll order pizza, get you a beer, we can watch a movie," Chuck pitches, a hint of a whine in his voice.

"I would love too, but I have to work in the morning. Hey, you be good for you dad, okay?" She asks her son, ruffling his hair.

"Stop," Cosmo flinches away, annoying. "I will." He smiles, stands, and pulls him mom into a hug. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, buddy." She moves to the door and pulls it open. "Not too late, okay?"

"Okay," Chuck says. "Bye."

"Bye."

And the boys are back in their game before the door fully closes.


	5. Carol

**A/N: Happy 23rd birthday, ER! Can you nerds believe this show came into our lives 23 years ago today? And all these years later, we are still here talking about it. Here's another glimpse into this world, and this family.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

She's still in her office, pouring over paperwork when her cell phone buzzes on her desk. Carol ignores it for a moment longer as she finishes a sentence and sends another e-mail off. When she finally looks at the text message, Carol smiles and stands from her chair.

Her liver transplant girl was out of surgery and awake in recovery.

Carol grabs her phone and her blazer off the back of her chair and slips the latter on as she walks out of her office and down the hall to the elevator. She rides down to the surgical floor, turning right when the door opens. She stops at the desk to grab the girl's chart, smiling at the nurses.

"How's she doing?" Carol asks, pulling up the records on the black tablet assigned to her room.

"Good. She's asking for a popsicle," a scrub-clad nurse responds, holding up the still wrapped treat.

"Good. I'm about to go check on her, so I'll take it down," Carol says. She turns and heads further down the hall, knocking on the closed door to the room the girl was assigned and waits until she's grated entrance before pushing it open.

The recovery room is dark, only the lights necessary for the nurses and doctors to do their work are on, though light does filter in through the closed window blinds. Cartoons play quietly on the TV hung on the wall, holding the attention of the young patient still coming out of anesthesia as well as her younger brother. (Technically kids aren't allowed on the surgical floor, but the rules were bent a bit for this special circumstance.)

"You came back!" The girl, lying in the giant hospital bed under her favorite princess Rapunzel blanket, rasps.

"I told you I would," Carol smiles, coming closer. "I brought this for you." She hands over the Popsicle and the girl happily starts sucking on it. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. They gave me medicine so it doesn't hurt so bad."

"That's good," Carol nods. "I think they're gonna move you back upstairs soon, and you're gonna stay there for a couple of days so we can make sure you're recovering okay, and then you'll get to go home," Carol tells the girl.

"Okay," the sleepy girl says.

"Okay," Carol nods, smiling down at her patient. "And I emailed you that information about my girl's school. They don't start until sixth grade, but it doesn't hurt to get your name on the list," Carol says, turning to the girl's parents.

"Thank you, so much, Carol. For everything," the girl's father, Eli, tells her, standing and holding out a hand.

"You're welcome. It really was great getting to know you guys," Carol smiles, shaking his hand.

"You as well. Give your girls our best."

"I will. Bye, Nathan," Carol smiles down at the toddler watching cartoons in his mom's lap. When he doesn't respond, all the adults laugh and shake their heads. "Bye, Tina. Be good, okay?"

"I will. Bye, Carol," Tina smiles, finishing off the last of her treat.

"I'll see you later," Carol says.

"Later," Tina replies.

"Bye," Carol says once more before leaving the room, letting the door close behind her.

She drops off the chart and rides the elevator back upstairs. As soon as she is alone in her sunny office, it finally hits her how tired she really is. She didn't get home until nearly midnight the night before and had to be back at work at five that morning, and with the other Transplant Coordinator she works with out on maternity leave, Carol was the only one handling their nine current cases, and eleven pending ones. So, after another forty minutes doing computer and paperwork, Carol shuts down her computer, gathers her things and heads for home.

"I have my phone if anyone needs me, and I'll try and get back later to check on Tina and Mr. Guzman," She tells the secretary of her floor.

"Go," the woman insists. "We can survive a few hours without you. Lord knows you of all people deserve a hot shower and a few hours' sleep, what with all these cases running you raged, keeping you up until all hours of the night," Just then, her phone rings and she answers it. "Go, before you're sucked back in," she says as the person on the other end speaks in her ear.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Carol laughs.

[] []

Back at home, after a long, hot shower, Carol gets into bed and quickly falls to sleep, only to be awoken a short time (though it was really four hours) later by the garage door being slammed shut and the loud voices of her three daughters home from school.

"Oh, that is nasty!"

"Seriously, Ad, it's gross. Put it away."

"Well, I think it's cool,"

"No! Don't put it on the counter! We cook food there!"

"Don't touch it! It's mine! Tess, Stop!"

"What are you guys yelling about?" Carol asks, coming into the kitchen where her daughters had congregated.

"Sorry, mom, we didn't mean to wake you up," Kate says, sympathetically.

"You were yelling loud enough to wake the dead," Carol says. "What's wrong?"

"Mom! They're being mean to me!"

"We were not! She was going to put that – that – _thing_ on the counter and I was just trying to stop her," Tess explains, pointing to the plastic bag in her sister's hand.

"Oh, my god! What is that?" Carol asks, squinting her eyes at the bag.

"It's a cricket! We dissected it at school and Mrs. Larsen said we could take it home if we wanted. Shawn and Evan didn't want it, so I took it," Addison nods happily.

"That is so weird, Addy. Why would you want to keep it?" Kate asks, disgusted.

"Because it's cool!" Addison insists. "Fine, if you won't let me keep it here, I'll put it in my room." And a second later her footfalls could be heard on the stairs.

"I do not get her sometimes," Tess says, sitting on one of the barstools, pulling a binder out of her backpack. "I mean one minute she's mad at me for almost getting Cheetos dust on her skirt, and the next she's doing that."

Carol laughs at her dramatic daughter, watching as she digs into her math homework, tapping away on her calculator. "You love her," she smiles. "Oh!" she suddenly remembers. "Addy!

"What?" the girl asks, dashing back down the stairs.

"That girl, the one who needed the liver? She got one today. That was why I left so early. I was making sure she was okay."

"And? Is she? Okay, I mean."

"Yeah, she's doing great. She should be home by the end of next week," Carol smiles.

"Good. Maybe she can come to our winter showcase. Will you ask her parents for me?" Addison asks.

"I will, yeah," Carol nods. "Go get started on homework, we're leaving in forty-five minutes."

The three sisters work in relative silence while their mom looks for something to make them for dinner. "Pizza okay," Carol finally asks after checking the freezer for the tenth time.

"Yeah," all the girls nod.

"Good," their mom says. "I'll make it in a few."

"Hey, momma," Tess starts, fidgeting with her pencil.

"Yes, Bear?" Carol responds, leaning against the counter in front of her daughter.

"Did dad talk to you today?"

"He came to see me earlier, why?"

"Well this morning we were talking and he said he would talk to you about getting me my own car so Kate and I don't have to share anymore. Did he do that?"

"No, he did not," Carol says, shaking her head. "We were at work, so he probably thought to bring it up later."

"So, you're still gonna talk about it?"

"Your dad and I will talk about it."

"Yes!" Tess cheers, throwing her hands up.

"But only if you keep that Chemistry grade up," Carol retorts. Her eldest daughter groans at the conditions her mom set, letting her head fall back. "Those are the rules," Carol shrugs, going to start the pizza.


End file.
